


Between the Lines

by talkstopaintings



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Canon, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3461759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkstopaintings/pseuds/talkstopaintings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For years the only news they had of each other were from the words of others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Lines

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old oneshot that could really do with some cleaning up, but I'm too fond of it to really do anything more with it. It serves its purpose.
> 
> Requested by anonymous.

* * *

 

Anna couldn't remember asking so many questions before she was five. But sometime after that—she wasn't sure when, the memory still eluded her so many years later—she had more questions than books had words.

And the answers to those questions had always felt as if she were trying to hold air in her hand.

“Does she have to go?”

Her father, dressed in royal blues, stood from where he’d been kneeling over her toy chest. A deep sigh and then a weathered hand was placed atop her head.

“Your sister is getting older. We've decided it’s time she start training to be Queen.”

“But why can’t she t-train to be Q-Queen here?”

She could be quiet when she wanted to be, if she tried really, _really_ hard. She wouldn't bother Elsa when her sister was doing her super important and super serious royal duties. _Honest!_

So why  _couldn't_  Elsa stay here?

_With me._

But her father shook his head and gave her a small smile, the kind that she still couldn't understand what it meant other than being tired.

“You’re both growing up. It’s time the two of you had a room of your own.”

But this room was half-Elsa. Not just half hers, but half- _Elsa_.

She opened her mouth to protest again, to whine, to cry, to tug her father’s sleeve, when he ruffled her hair.

“She’ll just be down the hall.”

Her mouth shut. Anna nodded faintly and chose to stare down at wax-shined black boots.

He left her there, sitting on her bed in an half-empty room.

 

 

—

 

 

“Do you think she’ll get nightmares?”

It was a strange thing for an eight-year-old to ask, but she was no ordinary eight-year-old.

Her mother didn’t answer right away. She fiddled with the edge of her new bed sheets, patted them down and then straightened.

She smiled gently at Elsa and beckoned her closer. Elsa walked over to her mother’s side, footsteps echoing unfamiliarly on her— _new_ —room’s wooden planks.

She stopped when she was right beside her and stared down at the bed. For some reason, it seemed bigger than her old one. The blankets were a deep, royal purple.

“Do you think she’ll still ask about monsters under the bed?” Elsa blurted out, still staring at the sheets.

Her mother tensed beside her and Elsa clasped her hands together, knuckles white.

Then the Queen bent down and picked her up and Elsa found her small arms instinctively wrapping around a long, elegant neck. She buried her face into a velvet-covered shoulder as her mother said, “Anna will be fine dear. You know as well as I that your sister would rather play with monsters than run away from them.”

Elsa nodded against her mother’s neck and clutched her dress tighter. A dainty hand reached up to rub small circles into her back.

_Mama’s right._

But, would have Anna have _nightmares?_

Elsa hiccuped softly and her mother sung quietly into her ears.

 

 

—

 

 

She was six when her parents introduced her to her private tutors.

She didn’t know why, but the fact that they were all so much older than her stuck out. Anna openly gaped besides her mother’s legs, one hand clutching her doll and the other hanging uselessly by her side.

“They’re going to be your teachers for the next several years,” the Queen whispered as her father talked with the surrounding men and women.

Anna tore her gaze away from staring at one particularly big man with gray hair and a beard she thought would touch the floor each time he said something.

“Does Elsa have this many tutors?”

Her mother’s usually doe blue eyes turned sharp. She glanced down at Anna and said, “Anna, don’t stare.”

Anna immediately clamped her mouth shut. The Queen was rarely ever short with her, except for that one time when Anna had gotten sick from being out in the cold for so long. She could still remember how hot her head had been and how her mother had chided her, a cold rag brushing her forehead.

At the ensuing silence, the Queen’s expression softened. She ran a hand through strawberry-blonde locks, tucking a stray hair behind Anna’s ear.

“Your father is teaching Elsa,” she said and any hurt Anna felt at her mother’s earlier tone vanished. She reached up and intertwined her fingers with the hand at her ear.

“Because he’s king?”

Something flickered in the Queen’s blue eyes.

“Because he’s king,” her mother confirmed.

 

 

—

 

 

It was in her tenth summer when she dared to ask her father. However, for the life of her she couldn’t out right go and ask:

_“How is Anna doing?”_

So instead: “Is Anna doing well in her studies?”

The King glanced up from the stack of papers he’d been pouring over, checking to see if she had made any mistakes in her arithmetic. He chuckled and she was inwardly pleased to see a familiar twinkle in his eyes.

“Well, I can certainly say she’s not as fond of geometry as you are.”

He passed back one of the sheets to her, not a single number or line marked with red.

_How many red marks does Anna get on her homework?_

“What does she like then?” Elsa asked, blue eyes wide.

Anna had liked running and playing in the ballroom, or the courtyard, and climbing the trees in the gardens. She couldn’t imagine her baby sister sitting still on a chair that was still a bit too tall and uncomfortable, writing away at her desk.

Her father’s eyes flicked up and then down, brow creasing.

_Did I finally make a mistake?_

Then, the lines around his face disappeared and he was once again the calm king of Arendelle.

“I think she’s taken an interest in art history.”

Elsa blinked and glanced down at her gloved hands. She twiddled her fingers. The King returned to checking her work.

Mentally, she wished she knew instead of: “I think.”

 

 

—

 

 

“Here you are Princess Anna.”

Anna remembered this time not to stare as Kai set down the bicycle in front of her. She hopped off her desk, abandoning the book on geography.

The butler placed his hands on his back and stretched back, a pop sounding. He sighed and smiled at her as she circled her new bicycle, a look of wonder on her face.

“Is it for me and Elsa?”

Kai’s gentle smile was wiped from his face. He stared down at Anna and the young princess couldn’t keep the large, toothy grin off her face.

“It can be, if you want it to Princess.”

Anna pursed her lips and puffed out her cheeks, thinking. Quite honestly, she was tired from thinking. She’d been doing it for the last couple of hours as she read up on mountains, oceans, deserts, tundras, and so many other places that she wondered if she would ever see.

“She didn’t want to build a snowman today either,” the eight-year-old muttered, shoulders drooping. “Would she want to ride our bike together?”

Kai hesitated and Anna saw his forehead crease in the same way her father’s did whenever she asked why Elsa stayed in her room for so long.

When he didn’t answer for a while, Anna switched tactics.

“Does she still have classes today with Papa?”

The portly gentleman smiled down at her. He ruffled her hair playfully and she wondered why all the servants—of which there actually weren’t that many, but still—wore gloves.

_Elsa started wearing them too._

“Princess Elsa has requested to have her lessons extended by another hour.”

Kai’s voice was like a snowball filled with a rock to the skull. Anna jerked her head away from where she’d been staring at a spot on the floor. She blinked up at him, teal eyes wide.

_Extended?_

That meant Elsa would study longer into the evening.

Anna clicked her tongue and nodded. She turned around to head back to her desk, saying, “Thank you Kai. Maybe I’ll ask her later.”

 

 

—

 

 

She remembered that day as easily as she remembered every single knock Anna made on her door. She had been thirteen at the time, gloved fingers tracing over words so long she had to stop every other line to check them in the dictionary she kept at her side.

Her mother had been sitting across from her, reading glasses perched on her nose and a book even larger than Elsa’s in front of her.

The snow falling gently outside brought a rare air of calm and relaxation to her room.

_CRASH!_

Elsa jerked back, eyes widening and mouth going slack. Before she could move, her mother had already crossed her room, opening the door and glancing outside, eyes narrowing behind her glasses and brow furrowed.

“What was that?” Elsa squeaked, hands clenched in her dress.

There was a moment where she could only hear muffled sounds coming from down the hallway, close to the stairs.

She had risen halfway out of her seat to check over her mother’s shoulder when the Queen sighed and shook her head, shutting the door.

“Your sister fell down the stairs again.”

“What?!”

Ice sprouted beneath her shoes as she darted across the floor to her door, glove hands twisting the knob before her mother gripped her shoulder.

_Don’t touch me!_

Elsa flinched away, hands instinctively flying to her chest. She immediately regretted the action when she saw the hurt in her mother’s eyes.

The blonde lowered her hands a bit, glancing between the door and the Queen. “I-Is she okay?”

Her mother smiled softly and opened the door, ignoring the frost that covered the handle. “Listen for yourself,” she said, gesturing with her head for Elsa to peer out.

Elsa gripped the doorway and leaned forward, ears straining.

“Papa, I said I was fi- OW!”

Her breath hitched when Anna’s yelp of pain carried down the hallway.

“A broken leg.” She could hear a vague hint of disappointment and exasperation in her father’s words. “Anna what have I told you about riding your bike along the halls?”

“Not to do it…” her sister muttered.

_How many times have you done this by now Anna?_

“At least wait until the day after your birthday to-”

The words were cut off as her mother closed the door. Elsa blinked, vision blurry. She saw ice where her fingers had gripped the doorway.

In a rare show of weakness, she allowed her mother to pry her hands apart and hold her to her chest.

“She’ll be fine Elsa. Anna’s a strong girl. It isn’t the first time she’s broken a bone.”

Elsa shut her eyes tightly and sniffed.

_But will it be the last?_

 

 

—

 

 

Anna felt her mouth water at the scent of her favorite dessert. Three layers of chocolate cake, with a dark chocolate filling and topped with cream and strawberries sat in front of her. A circle of eleven lit candles decorated the cake’s highest layer. Her fork practically begged to dig into the heavenly sweetness before her.

She had begun reading longer fairy tales by this time and seeing the cake on the table, uneaten, reminded her of how the dashing hero in her books had to face a trail of dragons, dark knights, and a cackling sorcerer before he saved the princess in the castle.

Her mother had begun pointing out the differences between tragedy and comedy when she read to her in the library in her spare time as Queen—as much spare time as a Queen was _allowed_ in her life.

Upon finishing her fairy tales Anna had thought her life was a comedy at best even if nothing particularly _interesting_ happened.

However, now, now, Anna knew her life was a tragedy.

She sat back in her seat, blowing her fringe out of her face, when her mother gave her a look at the end of the table. The look that was accompanied by a small smile and nod of her head. The look that, tenderly, humorously, said, “Behave.”

The cake would have to wait _until_ it was time for dessert.

So Anna watched the servants bring plates and dishes and soups and fish, watched them present the food to the royal family of Arendelle.

She counted the empty seats at the dining table.

Then, her eyes bore into the chair across hers.

“Is Elsa coming to dinner?”

The open-mouth, shocked looks on her parents’ faces made Anna momentarily think her life really was a comedy. A giggle was halfway up her throat when she saw them exchange glances. Her spine straightened when they fixed her with a worried gaze.

“Elsa will be joining us for breakfast tomorrow dear,” her mother said. “She said she was going to retire to bed early tonight.”

“She’s had a long day of lessons,” her father added. “You understand, right?”

Anna released her fork and placed her hands in her lap. She clutched her handkerchief beneath the table, knuckles white. “Yes, of course.”

She was beginning to understand people had different ways of saying, “No.”

Anna glanced at the cake again.

Suddenly, she had no appetite for dessert.

 

 

—

 

 

“Do you want to go outside?”

Elsa jerked her head to look over her shoulder, almost letting the mask slip off her face.

Her mother shuffled into the room, holding a tray of tea while her father shut the door. The chill inside meant that neither it nor the window had to be open to block out the summer heat.

Elsa shook her head, blond braid spilling over her shoulder. “No, it’s fine. I was just watching.”

She turned away from the window, brushed down her skirts, and sat at the small table.

“Are you sure?” her mother asked, placing down the tray and handing her a cup. “It would only be for one day.”

Behind her, Elsa felt her father walk past and look out the window, a worried frown on his face.

“No, Mama, it’s fine. I’m fine just having tea with you and Papa,” Elsa said, a smile smoothing over the aching, longing look she had while watching Anna outside.

_Ice in summer would be far too obvious._

When her mother didn’t press, Elsa felt glad she was growing more used to becoming the future Queen.

She lifted her cup and took a sip. “Did she like the gelding?”

“She’s been with him all day,” her father said. He sat down next to her mother, reaching for his own cup.

_I know. I’ve been watching._

There was rime on the windowsill from where her gloved fingers had dug in each time the skittish horse bucked and bolted. Each time, she would gasp and lean closer to the glass, wanting to call out to Anna to-

_“Be careful!”_

_“Watch out!”_

_“Hang on!”_

And each time, she shut her mouth and could only whimper when her younger sister eventually righted herself and patted the white horse gently, whispering comfortingly into his ear.

“Are you sure you don’t want a sweet mare Elsa?”

Blue eyes flicked away from the window.

“No Mama.”

It would just be another gift she’d decline that day.

She stared at the lone chocolate cupcake.

Elsa reached up to finger her braid. “What does Anna want for her birthday?”

Her father placed his tea down and the sound echoed in her room. She mentally cringed.

“I think-” he began.

_Please don’t say me!_

“She got her present early this year.”

This time the mask she had slipped from her face. Her vision blurred as she watched the sympathetic smile on her parents’ faces.

 

 

—

 

 

She had a growth spurt in the beginning of her teenage years. Anna had been convinced she’d stay short forever until one day she bumped her head on the headboard of her bed while waking up.

Her pained cry alerted her father who’d been passing by.

“Anna?!”

Boots rushed over the floor and large hands cupped her head, fingers sifting through strawberry-blonde hair to check for bumps.

“Ouch! Papa, I’m okay! I’m fine!” Anna hurriedly brushed his hands away, rubbing the spot she’d hit. Despite her insistence, she neglected to tell him a lump was forming.

_He’d just worry and it’s too early in the morning for that._

The King sighed and sat back on her bed, the age-old calm smile returning to his face that reminded her of all the graceful, dancing nobles in the pictures on the walls.

She wondered if she’d ever grow into that too.

“Well if you insist on fighting me like that, I assume you’re fine already,” he chuckled. There was an amused glint in his eyes that she thought was long since gone.

Anna blew a raspberry at him and grinned when he laughed outright.

"I swear you grew overnight, look at you."

He stood and she slipped out of bed. To her delight, her head came close to his chest. Anna squealed and her fists shook in excitement.

“Does this mean I need to get fitted for new clothes?” she asked, teal eyes batting dark red-brown eyelashes hopefully.

_Then I won’t have to look at the same old thing again for a while._

The King sighed good-naturedly and shook his head, chuckling again and stroking her cheek. “It appears so. Don’t grow up too fast again though. I’m not sure if that suit of armor at the bottom of the stairs will be able to handle someone as tall as me falling on it.”

Anna puffed out her cheeks and walked over to her dresser, picking up a comb and forcing it through the tangled mane she called her hair. “I haven’t done that in ages Papa,” she mumbled.

Her father laughed again and turned toward the open door. “Breakfast will be in fifteen minutes. Don’t be late.”

Anna hummed in response.

He was almost out the door when she asked, “Did Elsa grow up fast too?”

For a split second, the King was simply her father and the pain in his eyes was clear. Then the moment was gone and he schooled his features together.

“No, she grew taller gradually.” Then he left and shut the door.

_Do people say yes the same way they say no?_

The thought made her stomach twist in discomfort.

 

 

—

 

 

It was in her sixteenth year when the very idea that she would be Queen some day hit her like a rolling boulder. She had been posing in the dressing room, arms splayed out as several maids and the Royal Tailor busied about her. She held back the urge to flinch away, feeling her skin crawl as they touched her sleeve, pressed measuring tape against her ribs, held her chin up, splayed fingers across her back, kneeled by her side, and stayed so close to her that it hit her that, as Queen, she’d have to people nearby her like this every day after her coronation.

The thought felt like it was suffocating her.

So—when the Royal Tailor departed for a moment to speak with her mother—she turned her head to ask the Head Maid, Gerda, “Is Anna taller than me?”

Gerda blinked in surprise, either from the question or from the fact that Elsa was simply asking a question at all, the Crown Princess wasn’t sure.

The elderly woman drew back—of which Elsa was secretly grateful for—and tapped her chin in thought.

Behind her, Elsa could feel the other, younger maids leave her sides, searching for pins and needles and whatever else was needed for a new, tight, and concealing dress.

_Conceal._

Her fingers twitched and her arms were starting to ache from being held up for so long.

“About here, your Highness.”

A wrinkled finger pointed close to her shoulder and Elsa looked up from where she’d been staring at black, wax-shined shoes.

Wide blue eyes blinked in confusion.

Gerda chuckled lightly and gestured again, “Princess Anna is about this tall. Still shorter than you by about a head.” Brown eyes twinkled in amusement, “She’s bugged the doctor so many times about constantly checking her height, even if she’s been measured a day before.”

Elsa released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Her arms dropped to her sides and her shoulders slumped.

She tried to visualize Anna in her mind—bright grin, braids, and bouncing on the balls of her feet as the doctor tapped a pencil against her head.

_I could tuck her under my chin if I held her._

The reminder that Anna was still shorter than her was a comfort. An odd comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

Then the Royal Tailor re-entered the room with her mother in tow and Elsa’s spine snapped into a straight rod.

 

 

—

 

 

“Can I move rooms?”

Her mother blinked in surprise. “What for dear?”

Anna shifted in her seat. “I think my room is getting too small.”

Her father hummed and chewed on a piece of potato before replying, “If you’d like. You are getting bigger.”

Anna beamed. She already had the perfect room in mind. Down the hallway, in one of the rooms where the windows weren’t rectangular, but formed into pretty, symmetrical triangular shapes. Where she would have a clearer view of the courtyard and could see the grounds of it covered in pure white when it snowed during winter. Where she could be closer.

Closer to Elsa.

But when she looked up at her father, at his quiet, tired smile, something in her started.

“Which room did you have in mind?”

She could see the way his brow creased slightly. Just slightly. His eyes darkened and his grip on the armrests tightened.

Shoulders hunched.

Tired. He was tired.

_Tired of me?_   The thought flashed through her mind quicker than a squirrel darting across the courtyard grounds.

Anna dipped her head and moved her lutefisk around with her fork, mumbling, “A room in the east wing.”

_Farther_ down the hallway.

Away.

 

 

—

 

 

“She moved into the east wing just last week your Highness,” Kai said. He bowed to her and placed her breakfast on the nearby table.

She didn’t raise her head from the book she was reading.

“I see. Thank you Kai, you’re dismissed.”

She didn’t have to look behind her to know Kai was staring. His eyes bore into her back. Then, his footsteps began to fade.

“Kai.”

Damn her and this longing.

He stopped.

“What’s the view like?”

_Is it warm enough for her? Far away from me…_

There was a long pause. Elsa turned a page.

Then, she felt his presence return and he placed something next to her book. She stiffened and the constricting bun felt even tighter.

“It overlooks the town your Highness. A large window and plenty of sunlight for her.”

Elsa swallowed and nodded. “I see, thank you.”

Kai nodded and left.

One gloved hand wrapped around a small bag of chocolates, wrapped by a silk, dark green ribbon.

_Anna, it would be better if you forgot me._

 

 

—

 

 

Anna slid down the hall. She had spent a long, eventful day with the paintings and was more than ready to sit by the fire in the library and read her favorite romantic fairy tales.

A flash of pale skin, white-gold hair, and royal purple caught her eye.

She whirled, copper braids flying as she avoided crashing into a nearby maid.

“Princess! Are you alright?!” the maid shrieked, reaching out to balance Anna’s flailing arms.

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” Anna grasped the nervous woman’s shoulders and flashed her a charming smile.

“Thank goodness. I wouldn’t want to tell the Queen or King that you broke your nose again.”

“Ahuh.” She ignored the comment about her coordination and strained her neck to look past the maid’s head, watching the ghostly, angelic figure walk down the hallway.

She swallowed thickly at the sight of an elegant neck left bare from an intricate bun.

“Ingrid, who’s that-”

_Woman._

“-girl?” she asked distractedly.

Ingrid turned to look down the hallway, confused. The mysterious girl vanished past a corner.

“Why, that’s your sister dear. Princess Elsa,” she said, brow furrowed.

All at once the rosy glow in Anna’s cheeks disappeared and she paled considerably.

_I wish I had hit my face on the wall **this** time._

 

 

—

 

 

She had been bathing when she heard the laughter from beyond the window. Elsa started and dropped the bar of soap.

Another giggle reached her ears and her heart skipped a beat. Clambering over the bathtub, she wrapped a towel around her body and walked to the tiny window high up in the royal bath chambers.

Outside, Anna was struggling to rise from a mud puddle. Her white horse pranced in place, shaking his striped mane.

Elsa’s heart skipped another beat when Anna finally managed to stand.

Her baby sister was taller than she remembered. _When did she…?_

She watched as Anna skipped back to her horse and effortlessly—with sunlight streaming down and alighting her hair into a bright ember-red—swung back into the saddle.

Something clenched inside Elsa and she drew her towel closer.

She hurried out of the bath and when she saw her mother outside, she blurted out, “Mama, was that Anna down in the courtyard?”

Her mother’s gentle face grew loving, but exasperated. “I think I’m going to have a talk with that girl. She probably ruined her boots again, riding just after a rainy day.”

_So that **was** Anna._

After her mother left, Elsa rushed into her room, dressed, and curled up on her bed, cheeks flaming like the fire that was Anna’s hair and laughter.

 

 

—

 

 

Sometimes she wanted to ask if Elsa _had_ to be Queen.

Instead, she asked, while her mother brushed her hair, “Do you think Elsa will want me as her right hand Mama?”

The brush stilled for a moment, then resumed.

“I’m sure she’d want no one else dear.”

Anna nodded and stared at her—ordinary—reflection in the mirror.

Maybe when Elsa was Queen, everything wouldn’t feel half-empty anymore.

_Maybe then she’ll want to be with me again._

 

 

—

 

 

“Is she sleeping well?”

Her father handed her a large tome from one of the higher shelves. She obediently set it down on the table and opened it.

“The high fever broke so the worst has passed. She’ll be fine Elsa.”

She hated that winter brought so much sickness along with it. The knowledge that Anna was suffering in bed made her stomach coil.

“It’ll pass like a bad dream,” her father said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

_But will she sleep well?_

 

 

—

 

 

“They look alike, don’t they?” Anna whispered to Kai.

The butler smirked and winked at her. Her parents and Elsa were speaking with a messenger. The presence of a stranger was a rare sight amongst the dark hallways and closed windows.

“Well, your father did teach your sister well.”

_Too well._

Anna kept her mouth shut, just as her mother used to advise.

At least Elsa was identical to the Queen in looks and not just stiff spines.

 

 

—

 

 

“Where is Anna today Gerda?”

Elsa walked calmly down the stairs, glove brushing along the wood frame.

“In the portrait room, your Highness.”

“Ah, I see.”

She swerved in the opposite direction she’d been heading.

She avoided that room like the plague.

 

 

—

 

 

“Is she still studying?”

She poked at her food on the plate, alone in the dining hall.

“Yes Princess Anna.”

_Then all three of them will be in her room all day._

 

 

—

 

 

“Does she still ride her bicycle in the halls?”

She continued staring at the snow drifting outside the window, ignoring her mother’s look.

“That old thing fell apart months ago dear.”

_She doesn’t come by anymore either._

 

 

—

 

 

“Can you tell Elsa I said happy birthday?”

 

 

—

 

 

“How old is Anna now Papa?”

 

 

—

 

 

She always wanted to ask them:

_Does she miss me? Does she still love me?_

 

 

—

 

 

The questions stopped when the bells tolled.

 

 

—

 

 

Anna stood stiller than she ever had in her life.

The priest’s words filtered through the gray fog and fell amongst the crowd in a hush. Her hands were clasped in front of her, head bowed. The black dress and cloak felt heavy on her form.

The air was oppressive, thick and clogging her throat.

When the crowd began to thin, a few people came up to her and began to ask.

_“Princess, where might your sister be?”_

_“Is she alright?”_

_“Has she word of all this yet?”_

_“Will she make an appearance soon? As the new Queen?”_

_“What will you do now Princess?”_

The last man’s words made her flinch and the guards at her side stepped forward.

“It’s time the Princess returned to the castle. I’m sure we can all agree that there are things to take care of.”

The knight’s voice cut through the fog like a blade andthe people dispersed. For once, she was grateful to be left alone.

“Come Princess. We’ll escort you back to the castle.”

Anna stiffened and looked away from the engraved headstones.

“So soon?” She choked.

_Isn’t Elsa coming?_

“It’s getting late,” the priest said gently.

Anna glanced one more time at her parents before nodding.

“Alright.”

Just as she turned to follow her guards, she heard the priest say:

“Have courage, Princess Anna.”

 

 

—

 

 

She let out a shuddering breath and clutched her torso tightly.

Frost had long since stopped spreading along the walls.

Everything was covered in ice. It came up in spears from the floors, surrounding her.

Trapping her—this cage that was her room. Was it a cage or was it her only haven now?

_I want to hide. I want to run away._

Elsa blinked up at the ceiling. Her eyes burned.

_Why did you have to go?_

Outside, she heard faint footsteps.

_Anna?_

 

 

—

 

 

The castle hallways had never felt longer or darker than today.

Anna hugged her cloak closer and headed down the familiar path. The windows had been opened this time, but the pale light that shone through only made things look bleak.

She stopped at the hauntingly familiar door; the snowflakes upon its white surface appeared sharp and jagged.

Anna felt her heart thud painfully in her ribcage and she pushed back the tears.

Now was not the time to hesitate.

She knocked.

“Elsa?”

_“Please, I know you’re in there.”_

_“People are asking where you’ve been.”_


End file.
